


Beautiful

by aureliatheslytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Anorexia, Bulimia, Dark, ED - Freeform, EDNOS, Eating Disorders, Feels, Friendship, Heavy Angst, Language, Multi, Redemption, Slytherin, eatingdisorder, not really a romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26712745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aureliatheslytherin/pseuds/aureliatheslytherin
Summary: Millicent Bulstrode is not beautiful. She isn't tall and willowy like Daphne Greengrass. She isn't sharp and beautiful like Pansy Parkinson. She doesn't have her mother's auburn hair, or her sister's bright, blue eyes. Millicent Bulstrode is broad, short, and has bulges in all the wrong places. Millicent Bulstrode is the only Slytherin sixth year girl who isn't engaged and chances are good she's the only sixth year girl at Hogwarts who hasn't even been on a date."You're not ugly Millie, you're fat," Pansy says, with a small smile. "There's a difference."Millicent Bulstrode is not beautiful...but maybe she could be.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, daphne greengrass/Lavendar brown
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	1. Pansy Parkinson's 10 Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy Parkinson never has dinner. That's one of her rules. She has ten, or so she says, Millicent has only ever heard the first one.

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

The sound of Pansy Parkinson’s heels striking against stone follows the four of them down the dungeon corridor towards the common room and the sanctuary of their dorm room beyond. 

“I can’t believe your parents want you to marry Theo,” Pansy says to Daphine Greengrass for the twentieth time that day. 

“I can't believe you're just going to go along meekly with their plan!” Tracey says, also for the twentieth time that day. Tracey is a pureblood, but not from the kind of generational Slytherin family that demands obedience in all things from their daughters. 

Pansy, Daphne, and Millicent look at each other. _She doesn’t get it._ Pity mingled with jealousy. They had their prestigious family names; Tracey had her freedom. Daphne and Theo’s engagement is just the most recent in a succession of announcements amongst their peers. Millicent must have received at least two dozen thick, creamy white envelopes inviting her to celebrate her own humiliation in the last six months alone. Neither Daphne nor Theo had bothered to inform their friends about the betrothal, so the news had come via invitations they all received at breakfast. Daphne and Theo had shrugged as if to say, ‘it could be worse’ and are ignoring their betrothal for the most part. Millicent can’t do the same. She’s been trying not to let the news get to her all day. 

She is now the only unattached sixth year Slytherin girl. 

Athalia Parkinson and Narcissa Malfoy have been planning Pansy and Draco’s wedding for years. Tracey has been dating Jeremy Clearwater, a Ravenclaw in the running for Head Boy next year, going on two years. Evelyn Rosier hasn’t even returned to Hogwarts for her sixth year because she’s going to be married next month to Thomas Avery. 

Tiny, delicate, _beautiful_ Daphne’s lack of boyfriend or arranged marriage has been the shield against her mother’s lecturing, but now even that thin protection is gone. Millicent can already picture her mother’s next letter packed with phrases like _‘tone up a little,’ ‘last one married’ and ‘interest in Edith.’_

Interest in Edith is the worst. It’s bad enough being the ugly daughter of a beautiful woman, it’s worse that she’s also the _sister_ of a beautiful girl. Edith has always been pretty with her dark, auburn hair, her sky-blue eyes and soft, graceful way of speaking. A perfect pureblood wife in the making. Millicent has always been broad. Edith is only in second year but there has already been mentions here and there of a betrothal to this or that pureblood boy. There have been no such mentions in Millicent’s case. 

The only thing worse than being the last of her friends to get married would be attending her baby sister’s wedding single. 

“Cobra,” Pansy says, the wall opens up to the password and they push their way into the noisy common room. 

“Oi Greengrass!” Nicholas Selwyn, a seventh year, calls as they make their way towards the staircase. Nicholas is an ugly sort of boy. He’s tall with limbs too long for his body, an off-center nose, and a self-aggrandizing nature at odds with his total mediocrity. 

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Nicholas says, with a smug sneer as if he’s uncovered a dirty secret. He waves a thick, white envelope in Daphne’s face. Pansy smacks his hand away as Daphne flinches back, away from Nicholas. 

“Watch yourself Selwyn.” Pansy’s threat is a real one. She’s a dab hand at charms, a skill which translates to jinxes, curses, and hexes. 

“I’m just congratulating her!” 

He definitely isn’t, but Daphne nods at Pansy and so she steps back; black eyes burning into Nicholas. He returns to leering at Daphne, who is standing up straighter now and meets his gaze evenly. You can’t help but feel more confident with Pansy at your back, she’s just that intimidating. 

“So, you and Nott huh?” 

“That’s right,” Daphne says, daring him to say something about it. 

He looks her up and down, smiling appreciatively with a look in his eyes that Millicent has never seen directed her way. “Shame, you’d have made a lovely Mrs. Nicholas Selwyn.” 

“Oi Selwyn!” It’s Theo, seated in an armchair by the fire with Blaise Zabini on his left, and Vincent Crabbe on his right. He’s giving Nicholas a death stare. “Don’t speak to my fiancée like that, I might take it personal.” Beside him Vincent’s cracks his knuckles. 

Nicholas holds up his hands in mock surrender, although there is unease behind his eyes. “Alright Nott! Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” 

Pansy doesn’t break stride once throughout this entire exchange and Millicent follows her around the corner and up the stairs just as Theo yells something obscene back at Nicholas. 

“Boys,” Daphne says with a mournful sigh. She’s been rather downcast all day, ever since the news of her engagement broke. Millicent has her suspicions as to why, but she keeps her mouth shut. If Daphne wanted to talk about it, she would. 

“He’s defending you,” Pansy says kicking their dorm door open so that it slams against the wall and bounces back, nearly hitting Millicent in the face as she follows. 

“Merlin Pans.” 

“Sorry,” she says, but she doesn’t sound it. 

“I guess,” Daphne says in response to Pansy. 

“You need defending,” Tracey says flopping down onto her bed, closest to the door. “You never do it yourself.” 

This is true. Daphne is something of soft, wilting flower. She does as she’s told and follows where Pansy leads. Millicent sometimes thinks that Daphne could be led into any situation whether the leader wanted her to be a blood-traitor or death eater or something else entirely. Evelyn shared her softness but now Daphne is surrounded by bitingly sharp Pansy, bold and brash Tracey, and Millicent herself, stubborn and unmovable. 

Tracey begins to strip out of her uniform and Millicent has to look away. Tracey is a quidditch player in fine athletic form with hard muscles, sun-kissed skin, and soft curves in all the right places. Millicent is, in comparison, pale, freckled with bulges in all the wrong places. 

Daphne has sat down beside Pansy at the mirrored vanity and is staring thoughtfully in the mirror when she says, “at least he’s likely to be sympathetic to my – tastes.” 

Pansy laughs, “what’s _that_ supposed to mean?” 

Millicent knows exactly what it means and shares a meaningful look with Tracey, but Pansy is old fashioned. She doesn’t quite understand the looks Theo sends Draco’s way, and she never sees the way Daphne looks at _her._

“I’m _starving,”_ Tracey says, artfully changing the subject. “Hurry up for dinner.” 

Millicent thinks of the judgmental eyes in the Great Hall. She can almost hear their thoughts. _Death Eater. Elitist. Bitch. Bully. Fatty. Failure. Single. Undatable._ It doesn’t matter which side of the Great Hall she looks; someone is staring her down, eyes filled with condemnation. Most of the time their stares roll off her like water, but tonight - 

“Ugh, count me out. I think I’ll just eat some of those chocolates from the last Hogsmeade trip and stay up here.” 

“Perfect," Pansy says with a smile. “You can keep me company.” Pansy Parkinson never eats dinner. It’s one of her rules. 

“Well I’m dying for something, I skipped lunch to finish that stupid charms essay,” Daphne says, finishing changing out of her uniform and into a clean one. “Want me to bring you something Millie?” 

Millicent waves the box of chocolates she’s already found on one side of her bed at Daphne. “I’m good.” Daphne and Tracey troop downstairs, the door hasn’t even swung shut when Pansy and Millicent hear Nicholas Selwyn call to her again. 

“Greengrass!” 

“Theo’s definitely going to curse him,” Pansy says, waving her wand at the door to shut it properly. 

“Hopefully something that shuts him up for a while.” 

“He’s _so_ ill-bred, I can’t _believe_ his father let him take the Selwyn last name.” 

“Well - I guess a bastard son starts to look pretty good when you’ve got nine daughters. Someone has to pass the family name on.” 

“He has a nephew who isn’t such a – a -” 

“Peasant?” 

Pansy makes an unladylike snort and dissolves into laughter. Not her cute, high-pitched giggle that she put on around the others, but the real, gasping laughter that Millicent only ever heard when the two of them were alone. “This - _this_ is why you’re my best friend.” 

“If you can’t have looks, you’ve got to be funny.” 

“You’re not ugly Millie, you’re fat,” Pansy says, turning suddenly serious. “There’s a difference.” 

“Really? Could have fooled me.” 

“An ugly girl is stuck an ugly girl. There’s no need to keep being a fat one.” Pansy looks at the chocolates on her lap meaningfully. “You could start by trying not to eat your feelings.” 

“I’m not eating my feelings.” 

Another unladylike snort. “Oh please! You’re not even a little bit upset that you’re looking to be the last one married?” 

“I mean - “ 

“Look, I’ve been there, I get it.” 

“Pansy, you are tiny, you do _not_ get it.” 

“I used to be chubby!” 

“In second year!” 

“And I’d still be chubby if I hadn’t done something about it!” Pansy says with a dramatic wave of her hands. Her dark eyes are bright, filled with a feverish light Millicent hasn’t seen before despite having known Pansy her entire life, and known her well. “That’s the only real difference between you and me Millie – I realized I need to fight it! I learnt what works and I do it! I just follow a few simple -” 

“Ah yes,” Millicent says, cutting her best friend off. The end of that speech was a familiar one. “The mythic ten rules.” 

“The very secret to my success, and I’m going to share them with you.” 

“Oh my, I could be like the mighty Pansy Parkinson? Little ole’ me?” 

Pansy glares at her, some of the mad excitement fading from her eyes. “If you’re done being snippy -?” 

Millicent holds her hands up in surrender, “fine, let’s hear them then.” 

“Well, you already know the first one.” 

“Skip dinner, unless it’s a formal event.” 

“Even if it’s a formal event,” Pansy corrects. “You just push the food around to make it look like you're eating. For politeness sake." 

“Merlin Pansy, that’s - “ 

“That’s what it takes Millie.” 

“Merlin,” Millicent says again, a weight settling on her chest. “What’s the second rule then?” 

“Always wear heels.” 

“What?” 

“They make your legs look longer and slimmer.” 

“Okay, that makes sense.” 

“Third, don’t eat anything white. It’s all fattening so just avoid anything white.” 

“I guess that’s easy enough.” 

“Fourth, never go for seconds,” Pansy continues on as if Millicent hasn’t spoken at all. “Fifth, don’t eat after five in the evening. Sixth, drink three glasses of water before eating. Seventh, chew each mouthful exactly twenty times before swallowing. Eighth - “ 

“Pansy,” Millicent interrupts her. “Do you hear yourself?” 

Pansy’s dark eyes narrow as she meets Millicent’s gaze. “What do you mean?” 

“Chew exactly twenty times? Does that not sound crazy to you?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry I thought I was the one who managed to stop being chubby and keep the figure I want? But no, you go ahead and lecture _me_ about food.” 

Millicent looked down at her friend’s slender waist and high, prominent cheekbones. Proof of her friend’s superior knowledge in this one area, even she was being a bitch about it. “Okay, fair enough.” 

“The next one isn’t even about food. Eight is never leave the dorm room without makeup or a beauty charm.” 

“Really?” 

“You’ve got to maintain the illusion Millie.” 

“Fuck me.” 

“I think that might upset Draco.” 

Millicent rolled her eyes. “Fine, what’s nine?” 

“No milk or sugar in tea." 

“Are you serious -” 

“It’s one of the easiest ones!” 

“No milk in tea?” 

“ _No milk!”_

Millicent groans, flopping back down onto her bed. “No fucking milk, wonderful.” 

“And last, but certainly not least, only eat sweets once per month.” Pansy walks up to the edge of her bed, looking down on Millicent and the box of chocolates she has spilled across her bed. “So, I guess those chocolates are your sweets for October.” 

“Fuck me, how can you possibly only eat sweets once per month?” 

“Food is the enemy,” Pansy says, her face and eyes deadly serious. “Sweets especially so.” 

Millicent looks down at the chocolate, cut into the shape of a star with amber, caramel crystals. It’s a welcoming sight in her eyes. Sweet, delicious, non-judgmental chocolate. 

Pansy slaps it out of her hand, sending it flying across their dorm room. 

“The enemy.” 


	2. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millicent never realized quite how many white foods there were.

She had been right; Pansy’s rules are insane, and Pansy follows them like religion.

Every morning Millicent gets a pillow to the face from Pansy at some ridiculous hour. They sit at the vanity together smearing matching sets of expensive creams on their faces, brushing sleekeazy through their hair and darkening their eyelashes. Pansy even has Bubotuber pus, sealed tightly in a ceramic jar charmed to contain the smell. She steals it from the greenhouse, though her house elf does the dirty work.

Millicent’s mother was only too happy to send the creams, perfumes, and sprays on Pansy’s list. ‘ _Happy to see you making an effort,’_ her letter had said. Millicent had thrown it in the fire.

After making themselves presentable, Millicent follows Pansy downstairs to the Great Hall. There she gulps down a black, unsweetened cup of tea and eats an apple. She leaves breakfast for whichever class she has that day. Her stomach hurts.

Each morning is a little harder than the next, breakfast is a very white meal. Millicent never realized quite how many white foods there were. Porridge is white, toast is white, milk, eggs, sugar, bagels, rice: all white. Pansy even considers waffles and pancakes to be white foods, though they’re more of a golden brown to Millicent’s eyes. So, breakfast is fruit, and Pansy judges her choice. A few handfuls of berries or an apple get a smile, citrus a raised eyebrow, bananas a frown.

Lunch is easier. There's soups and salads and slices of roast lamb to be had. If it wasn’t for lunch Millicent sometimes thinks she would kill Pansy.

It’s dinnertime, or it would be if Millicent wasn’t following Pansy’s totalitarian rule. Tracey and Daphne have left them for the Great Hall, Pansy is fussing with her hair, Millicent is staring up at the wood-frame ceiling of her four-poster bed her mind curiously empty.

“Want a smoke?”

Pansy has offered her this every few nights over the last week and a half. Millicent glances at her friend, dark haired and beautiful, a cedarwood pipe carved into the likeness of a dragon held out in one hand. Millicent recognizes it as Draco’s, his silver tobacco tin stamped with the Malfoy crest rests on Pansy’s lap. Millicent isn't one to judge, but she hates that Pansy smokes in their dorm. She vanishes thesmoke of course, but the air is never quite as fresh afterwards.

“I’m good.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Millicent sits up to glare at Pansy, “do you want me to show you how hungry I am?”

Pansy chokes a little on the smoke at that, laughing her free, natural laugh that is reserved just for Millicent. “Are you saying you’ll eat me?”

“Oh, fuck off – I'm being threatening.”

“Cannibalism would count as a threat.”

“Pansy Poppy Parkinson I will break your nose.”

“Merlin you are such an angry bitch when you’re hungry. Please have a smoke. I swear it helps. Plus, some of the pipes are beautiful – you love buying stuff.”

Millicent makes a rude gesture in Pansy’s direction, not bothering to reply.

“Well at least buy me one then.”

Millicent laughs, throwing an errant sock at her friend. “Using me for my wealth again Parkinson?”

It’s a crude way to describe the more transactional aspects of their friendship, but it’s an accurate one.

Pansy’s mother Athelia Parkinson is strict with money. She demands an accounting of each and every  
purchase. Pansy says it's to ensure she doesn’t buy any sweets, but Pansy gets letters demanding an explanation for every little thing after a Hogsmeade trip. Millicent has always thought it was more about control than anything else, but she keeps those thoughts to herself. Especially since Alder Bulstrode, a man who would never let his wife have any say in financial matters, gives all of his children enough money to always be the wealthiest person in the room. Millicent has a personal Gringotts vault, she has since she was four and performed her first act of accidental magic. Every month her father deposits several hundred galleons in her vault as an allowance, how much depends on how pleased he is with her but it’s never less than two hundred. Millicent has her own line of credit at Scrivenshaft’s Quills, Dervish and Banges, Gladrag’s Wizardwear, The Three Broomsticks, and most of the stores at Diagon Alley. Her father pays off those accounts monthly. She receives three thousand Galleons every December first to buy Christmas presents, gets a thousand galleon reward each time she receives an outstanding on her schoolwork, and everything she actually _needs_ is bought for her separately.

Not even Draco Malfoy has so much money to spend, and he’s the sole heir of the Malfoy fortune. She has five siblings. With so much to spare it's just easier for Millicent to buy Pansy's share as well. Athelia Parkinson likes to send howlers. 

“Well Draco’s smoking like a chimney lately and anytime I ask for the pipe he acts like a kicked bloody puppy,” Pansy grumbles. “ Won’t buy me one himself though.”

“Have you asked him to?”

“No - but I’m always borrowing his and he knows how Mother is!”

“If you want a boyfriend who is romantic and thoughtful, I have to tell you that you’ve made a big mistake Pans. You want something from Malfoy, you have to tell him.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Nice way to speak to someone you want a favor from.”

“You’ll buy it either way,” Pansy says dismissively and despite her rudeness, she’s right. "Anyway,” Pansy continues, “if you’re going to order one pipe you should see if you’ll need two.”

“What?”

“Try it!”

“I already hate the smell.”

“Well it helps with the hunger, so at least give it a go?”

Millicent sighs, reaching her hand out for the pipe. Pansy has already packed it ready and draws her wand to light it for Millicent. The first inhale is enough to confirm what she already suspected. Millicent breathes out, coughing. Her stomach roils, suddenly burning and angry. A wave of nausea nearly overwhelms her.

“Ugh!” She shoves the pipe back in Pansy’s direction, who takes it laughing. As she leans forward the tobacco tin falls from her lap and onto the floor so that the light glints across its silver surface and catches Millicent’s eye. A massive M surrounded by serpentine dragons and the words _“Sanctimonia Vincet Semper._ ”

Purity Will Always Conquer.

“Hey Pans?”

“Mmm?”

“What do you think Malfoy meant when he said he wouldn’t be back at Hogwarts next year?”

Pansy’s dark eyes meet her murky green across the room. There’s fear in Pansy’s eyes, but before she says anything the door to their dorm flies open, hitting the wall and nearly bouncing back in the faces of Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass who are bickering loudly.

The spell of the moment is broken and Millicent flops back down onto her bed. Her empty stomach is gnawing at itself painfully. Her head feels like it is being squeezed by some enormous, invisible hand. Pansy says the hunger goes away after a few weeks; Millicent hopes she’s right.


	3. Peppermint Pepper-Up Schnapps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes cutting class to get drunk is the only thing to be done.

She’s tucked around a corner at a small desk out of view. Theo is squished in beside her, arms folded onto the desk in front of him, head resting on his arms. They’re meant to be finishing a particularly nasty transfiguration essay over lunch but instead they’ve spent their time eavesdropping on two Gryffindor third or fourth years who obviously think they’re out of anyone’s earshot. One of the pair successfully got to second-base the night before with a Hufflepuff and is describing it in painstaking detail to his eager friend. 

“- I'm telling you; it was giving her flowers. She practically swooned.” 

“Flowers?” His friend asks sceptically. 

“Flowers.” 

The two boys fall silent for a moment that stretches out and Millicent begins to turn back to her essay when one of them says - 

“You hear Harry Potter made Dean Thomas the new chaser?” 

“So, Katie Bell isn’t coming back?” 

“Not in time for the game.” 

“Do you think it was the Slytherin quidditch captain?” The amorous one asks darkly. 

“I don’t know, I always heard he was alright – for a Slytherin.” 

“Well it was definitely a Slytherin.” 

“Duh! Who else would it be?” 

“How dare they?” Theo whispers, his voice low enough that it doesn’t carry to the still-chattering Gryffindors. 

“I know! It’s just as likely it was a Ravenclaw, they fuck around with Dark Magic far more than any Slytherin.” 

Theo pauses, lifting his head up to look at Millicent his eyes unreadable. “You think what happened to that girl was an accident?” 

“Obviously, I mean unless Adrian actually did curse her. She is the most experienced Chaser Gryffindor has now.” 

“It’s not about quidditch Mil,” Theo says. “She’s a half-blood.” 

“Don’t be stupid, why would -” Millicent glances around but no one is listening. “Why would he go after a half-blood random when Potter’s mudblood girlfriend Granger was walking behind them?” 

“I think it was Draco.” 

“What?” 

“Mention it to him sometime, you’ll see exactly what I mean. He gets quiet and tries to change the subject quick as he can.” 

“But why?” 

“You know why.” 

“It doesn’t make sense.” 

“Father always said that he always has a larger plan. Even if you can’t see it as it unfolds, eventually it forms a pattern.” 

Millicent stares out the window towards the black lake. Something about its hidden depths, only revealed in the Slytherin common room and dormitories, always calms her. She needs that calm now. 

The Dark Lord. 

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. 

Voldemort. 

That’s who Theo meant when he said he with that reverent emphasis. Millicent wishes, in the private sanctum of her mind far behind the wall that not even her father’s legimency can pierce, that the Dark Lord had stayed dead. 

“I wish we could go back to last year,” she says. 

“Merlin, you’re telling me. If I have to spend another summer with my Grandmother - “ 

Theo continues on a long anecdote starring his draconian grandmother who has had custody of him since his father went to Azkaban at the very end of their fifth year. It’s a rant Millicent has heard before, which is good because she’s scarcely paying attention. 

She knows where Pansy and Theo, her two very best friends, will stand in the coming conflict. Peter Parkinson is just as much a Death Eater as Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Nott Senior; he just hasn’t been caught yet. Pansy, Draco, and Theo are all tied to the Dark Lord’s cause. 

But Alder Bulstrode is not. 

Alder Bulstrode is the richest wizard in Britain. He is assertive, self-righteous, and utterly convinced of his own superiority. He’s the smartest man Millicent has ever met. He is one of the few people she has ever seen Professor Snape address with true respect rather than a false veneer of cordiality or outright disdain. He doesn’t bow, to anyone. He isn’t the kind of sniveling ass-kisser that Millicent privately considers Lucius Malfoy to be. He’s not a Death Eater, and Millicent can’t imagine her father wanting to be. Not to mention that, from what Millicent knows of him, the Dark Lord prefers the subservient type. 

It’s no surprise Lucius has been his lackey for decades and Alder has only ever given the occasional donation to the Dark Lord’s cause. 

Millicent doesn’t know where the Bulstrodes will stand because it isn’t obvious who will win yet. Her Father always does his best to choose the winning team, and that might not be Lord Voldemort’s. 

Despite her loyalty to her friends, Millicent will follow her Father’s lead. She is a Bulstrode and she will stand with her family, no matter which side that happens to be. 

Far across the library Millicent can see her sister Edith, the unexpected baby of the family. She’s wearing her auburn hair in twin braids hanging on either side of her face and tied off with blue ribbons. She’s the only Ravenclaw in the family, Millicent, her older siblings and both their parents are all Slytherins. Millicent is secretly glad, sometimes that failing is the only thing that stops her from hating Edith for her utter perfection in all the areas Millicent is a failure. Most of the time, however, Millicent loves Edith more than anyone else, even Pansy. 

She knows that if her father decides the Bulstrodes will be standing against Voldemort, she will do as he tells her. She will stand with her family; she will protect Edith and their family name. 

**** 

The hunger is overwhelming. Millicent has missed lunch two days in a row in favor of finishing homework with Theo in the library. Normally this is fine, they are both last-minute procrastinators, it is the basis of their friendship. But normally Millicent eats a decent, white, breakfast and an equally big dinner. 

Not anymore. 

For breakfast Millicent has a single, green apple and a cup of black, unsweetened tea. She misses lunch with Theo two days in a row. She skips dinner with Pansy. 

She wakes up on the third morning, having only eaten two, green apples in forty-eight hours. At first the hunger is so overwhelming it sickens her. Her stomach churns, burning with acid, begging for food. The thought of another apple brings a fresh wave of nausea. It’s toast or nothing her stomach demands, but toast is white. 

“Third, don’t eat anything white. It’s all fattening so just avoid anything white.” 

Breakfast is absolutely out of the question, but if she doesn’t get something to calm the storm in her stomach she might die. Or at least it feels that way. Though some rational part of her knows it’s ridiculous, she knows of only one thing that is guaranteed to settle her stomach. 

Peppermint Pepper-up Schnapps. 

Unfortunately for the logical part of Millicent’s brain, she knows exactly where to get it. 

Theodore Archibald Nott. 

The Ministry of Magic has given him early access to his inheritance, six months before his seventeenth birthday. Technically Theo shouldn’t have been given access to the Nott family accounts until his father’s death, but the Wizengamot had ruled a life sentence equal to death and granted Theo the inheritance. His grandmother, a draconian, die-hard, traditionalist, respects Theo’s rights to everything that previously belonged to Theodore Nott Senior. Including an exceptionally large amount of very, very nice liqueurs, whiskeys, fruit wines, and rums. It had once included many gins according to Theo, but gin was his grandfather’s favorite drink, and he hadn’t left a single bottle unopened before his death. 

Millicent hears Pansy wake up and the rustling as she prepares to launch a pillow across the room and right into Millicent’s face, but this morning Millicent is ready for her. 

“Incendio!” 

“Millie!” 

“Agumentai!” 

The pillow falls to the floor, singed and dripping wet. 

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you Millie?” 

“We’re cutting class and getting drunk,” she announces, ignoring Pansy’s question. 

“It’s seven in the morning Mil,” Daphne says with exasperation, turning back over. 

“Who gives a fuck?” 

“We have class,” Pansy says. 

“Again - who gives a fuck? It’s Friday anyway.” 

“I’d be all for this plan, but I’ve got practice tonight and tomorrow morning and Pucey has been a right dick lately, so I don’t want to perform poorly,” Tracey says with a sigh. “I’m sorry to leave you with these two nerds, you'll never convince them.” 

“I have an Arithmancy test and fucking Granger is beating me by one percent in that class!” Pansy yells throwing her charred pillow at Tracey with precision a chaser would envy. 

“Who cares?” Tracey yells back. 

“She’s a mudblood!” 

“Yeah, a smart one.” 

Millicent leaves them to argue about whether or not it actually matters that Hermione Granger is smarter than all of them. If Pansy and Tracey are out, then there’s no way she can convince Daphne to cut class and get drunk. She makes her way down the staircase and up to the boys side of the dormitories finding the sixth year boy’s door with practiced ease. 

She kicks the door open so that it bounces off the back wall and closes just as she passes through. 

“Merlin’s balls what the -” Gregory Goyle begins but he stops when her recognises Millicent. “Oh, it’s just Bulstrode.” He falls back into his sheets. 

“Let’s get drunk, preferably with peppermint pepper-up schnapps,” she says to the room of half-awake boys without preamble. 

At this Malfoy, who has been something of a wet blanket since his father went to Azkaban, perks up and Millie can see the white flash of his smile for perhaps the first time this school year. “Bulstrode, you never fail us.” 

Within twenty minutes they’ve pulled all the blankets and pillows onto the floor in front of the dorm’s closed fireplace and Theo has selected several bottles from the stash he brought with him. 

“I figure starting this early it’s time for some serious drinking,” he says when Blaise raises an eyebrow at the number of bottles. 

“I only engage in serious drinking,” Draco drawls to laughter from Greg and Vincent. Millicent glances at the clock past his head, it’s eight-thirty in the morning as she accepts the bottle of Peppermint Pepper-Up Schnapps from Theo and raises it to her lips. The inferno in her stomach calms with the first gulp and the fog that has hunted Millicent’s steps, giving the world a fuzzy, surreal quality clears. 

9:30am 

She’s light, weightless, a feather in a soft, summer breeze. Millicent is no stranger to alcohol, but without food as a buffer she feels so much freer after just two drinks than she imagined possible. Vince is throwing balled up parchment into the air for Blaise to set on fire. She watches the charred bits fall to the floor, like fireflies on a midsummer’s night. 

11:19am 

“Never have I ever fucked Pansy Parkinson,” Greg says grinning maliciously at an already drunk Draco. 

“That is blatant cheating!” Draco objects. 

“Don’t be a pussy,” Millicent says. “I know perfectly well you’ve got to drink to that Malfoy.” 

Draco blushes. 

1:00pm 

“- and you just went along with it? Honestly Draco sometimes I question your thought process! It’s lunchtime and you’re all shitfaced!” Pansy is yelling, seriously unamused by their drunken antics. 

“For fucks sake Pans, if you can’t beat us – join us,” Millicent stretches out the bottle of Ogden’s finest that she has been nursing for the last half hour. Pansy glares at her. 

“I haven’t had my arithmancy test yet!” 

4:36pm 

“Dare,” Draco says confidently. 

Theo grins a wicked grin. “Make-out with Mil.” 

“Why me?” Millicent protests. 

Draco looks equally disgusted, shaking his head vehemently. “Ugh, no, Pansy would literally murder me. Truth.” 

Theo narrows his eyes. “Why haven’t you proposed to Parkinson yet?” 

There’s silence, several years of suspicions hang over Millicent and the others as they look at Draco intently. He’s suddenly very pale. 

“I - “he begins, but he can’t form the words. 

5:45pm 

“Dinner!” Theo announces, returning to the room with his arms full from his trip to the kitchens. Vince and Blaise trail in behind him, their arms also laden with the house-elves hard work. Theo sits down beside her, dropping his haul onto the stack of books serving as a makeshift table. 

“I got you some pumpkin pasties,” he tells Millicent, offering her one. 

“I’m good,” Millicent says waving him off. She hasn’t eaten anything today, unless firewhiskey and peppermint schnapps count, but she’s oddly not hungry at all. “I don’t eat dinner now.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re on Pansy’s bullshit,” Draco says with some venom. “It’s fucking stupid.” 

“Worth it to look like Pansy though.” 

Theo shrugs, Blaise’s eyes are unreadable as ever, Draco sighs, shaking his head. Vince and Greg exchange a worried look that she pretends not to see. 

7:58pm 

“Theo’s right,” Draco says. They’re the only ones left awake now. Greg and Vince are snoring, Greg’s head on Vince’s shoulder. Blaise has disappeared to ‘entertain’ a Ravenclaw girl he’s been seeing. Theo is asleep, face down on his mattress. 

“About what?” 

“About Katie Bell. I gave her the necklace.” 

Millicent feels sick, “that’s - “ 

“Totally fucked up,” Draco finishes for her. 

“Why?” 

“You know why.” 

“It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“It wasn’t meant for her.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Who was it meant for?” 

Draco just shrugs, the moment has passed. “Don’t tell Pansy though.” 

“I won’t.”


End file.
